


Bet on It

by idreamofdraco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Drunk Sex, F/M, Hogwarts Professors, Not Epilogue Compliant, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Post-Hogwarts, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teacher Draco Malfoy, Teacher Ginny Weasley, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10115459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofdraco/pseuds/idreamofdraco
Summary: Hogwarts flying instructor Ginny Weasley and Potions master Draco Malfoy have a contentious relationship, rife with insults, bad jokes, and unethical wagers. After five years of heated exchanges, their relationship takes a new turn, but will Ginny accept the gamble?Prequel to The Return of the Singing Valentines but can be read alone as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bet on It was featured in two episodes of The Potterotica Podcast, a fun podcast where friends Lyndsay, Allie, and Danny read one chapter of Harry Potter erotica each episode and laugh about it, basically. No worries, all stories are read with the consent of the author, and it's all in good fun! Check out Bet on It on Potterotica [here](https://potteroticapodcast.com/episodes/q13e1-bludger-hardly-know/) and [here](https://potteroticapodcast.com/episodes/q13e2-catching-snitches-not-feelings/)!

Over the last four years, it had become something of a tradition at the beginning of the school year for Malfoy to meet Ginny on the Quidditch pitch following her final flying lesson of the week.

The first three years, Ginny had glared and frowned to see him lounging next to the equipment closet, waiting for her as she ushered flush and excited first years to their next period. She'd tried to ignore him as she stowed away brooms and balls, locking them in until the next lesson. Only when she'd finished would Malfoy smirk at her and ask, “Well, how does it look, Ref? Does Slytherin have any promising fliers this year? Anyone we need to watch out for?”

For some reason, this year Ginny grudgingly smiled at the sight of him. This time, amusement, not annoyance, caused her to speak to him first.

“I keep hoping you'll give this up one day,” she said, her twitchy smile switching to a scowl. The scowl, however, was genuine due to her irritation with herself for feeling anything positive at Malfoy’s presence. He was still a git going on her sixth year teaching at Hogwarts, four years after this tradition began.

“Never.” This time he grabbed the handle on the other end of the crate in which the Quidditch balls were stored and helped her deposit it on a shelf in the equipment closet. “I'd do anything to get an edge over Pomona, Filius, and Septima.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “We wouldn't want an embarrassing repeat of last year.”

Malfoy frowned at the reminder. “There are no words to express how much I wanted to watch Septima eat her hat when Gryffindor lost the cup to Slytherin.”

“Instead you had to treat her to quite an expensive bottle of whiskey, if I remember correctly.”

“ _Three_ bottles of extremely expensive whiskey. And she still hasn't let me live down that defeat.”

“Sounds like you relied a little too heavily on bad intel.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Did you sabotage my gamble, Weasley?”

Ginny shrugged as she locked the closet and turned to go back up to the castle for lunch.

“I may have spread a rumor in the staff room—and maybe I warned Septima about it prior to the match.”

“ _Oh,_ you cunning witch. That's why you refrained from making a wager.”

If Ginny wasn't mistaken, Malfoy looked at her with newfound appreciation, not the anger she'd been expecting. Her cheeks burned under his thoughtful gaze, and she hoped he mistook the source of her color for the result of spending the last hour under a blazing sun.

“I didn't take your bet because it was unethical to do so.”

“That didn't stop you the rest of the season, did it?” he asked, his voice as smooth as honey. “Face it, Weasley, you like betting with me.”

She scowled again, her happiness at remembering her victory over Malfoy last school year draining away thanks to his smug smile.

And also because he'd stumbled upon a truth that Ginny refused to acknowledge.

“I like watching you lose,” she said with a glower. “It delights me to see a Malfoy brought to his knees.”

“There was no need to cheat me out of my victory for that.”

A triumphant expression crossed his face, his smile widening, his brows rising, just waiting for her to take the bait. She ground her teeth together, not wanting to humor him, but still she asked, “Why’s that?”

“Because,” he said, his voice lowering, still smooth, still honey-like in consistency, but warm now as well, “all you had to do was ask.”

Malfoy blew past her, skipping up the front steps and entering the castle as Ginny continued to stand there, burning—and not from the sun.

o o o o

Ginny had taken one look at the High Table at lunch and decided to skip the meal altogether.

There was just something about seeing Malfoy sitting up there with the rest of the staff, Headmistress McGonagall on his right, Pomona on his left, Septima next to Pomona, Filius next to McGonagall. Even though Minerva sat in the throne-like chair at the center of the table, Malfoy was the one who held court, everyone’s attention on him, chatting with him, laughing with him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t get along with her coworkers, but the sight of someone like Malfoy being accepted by people who had fought against him and his family during the war set her teeth on edge. Everyone sitting at that table had defended Hogwarts against Death Eaters, and there Malfoy was amongst them, his Dark Mark hidden under the thin layer of his robe sleeve.

She didn’t understand how they had been able to accept him despite all he’d done, despite the things he’d attempted. Maybe she should have forgiven him, like they had. It had been over ten years since The Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the war, but Ginny couldn’t forget. Forgiving was impossible while she still had nightmares of her brother dying and her soul being consumed by darkness—the latter for which a Malfoy was solely responsible.

Instead of honoring Malfoy with her presence, she went to her office to take a look at the signup sheets for Quidditch tryouts next week. Since Ginny had been back at Hogwarts, she had been happy to see the number of students trying out increase year after year. Minerva had told her the previous year that Ginny’s modifications to the flying program had been the cause of the increased interest in Quidditch at Hogwarts. Considering how popular the sport already was, the praise had been a point of pride with Ginny.

A sandwich, an apple, and a piece of chocolate cake sat on Ginny’s desk when she arrived at her office, though her door had been locked. She smiled at Dobby’s kind gesture as she sat down and withdrew her copies of the signup sheets from a drawer. This wasn’t the first time Dobby had sent lunch or dinner to her rooms or her office when Ginny had deigned to skip a meal.

She dug into the cake first as she unrolled Slytherin’s tryout list and tried to speculate which of those signed up would make the team.

o o o o

Ginny’s breakfast sat forgotten on her plate as she eyed Malfoy circulating the Slytherin table the following week. She watched him as he sought out particular students, spoke to them, and shoved a piece of parchment under their noses before moving on to the next student.

“Persistent fellow, isn’t he?” Septima Vector purred.

Ginny had not taken Arithmancy as a student and so had never had the occasion to speak to Professor Vector prior to returning to Hogwarts as a member of the staff. The first time she’d had a conversation with the woman had been an interesting experience. Septima always spoke to people as if they were the most fascinating and delicious person she’d ever met, and with her deep ebony skin, abundance of waist-length plaits, and deviously warm eyes, it was no wonder she was the most fancied teacher in the castle. (Ginny didn’t want to think about any students fancying Malfoy, though she was sure many did.)

“Why is he so agitated?”

Septima’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Ginny’s question. “The Slytherin Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon.”

“Oh, right,” Ginny said, feeling silly she’d forgotten.

Now she understood what Malfoy was up to. He was looking for last-minute recruits to try out for the team, approaching all the second years Ginny had told him showed promise when she’d taught them as first years a year ago.

Septima nodded toward the Slytherin table again. “Who is that?”

Malfoy sat down next to a girl sporting bushy pigtails. She sat apart from her classmates, at the far end of the table with a book open and perched against a pitcher of orange juice.

“Matilda Quartremaine. She was one of my students last year and probably the best flier of the whole class.” Ginny’s lips turned down in a scowl. “She’s a Muggleborn and her best friends are in Hufflepuff, so she’s not very popular with her housemates.”

They watched Malfoy spend a few minutes with Matilda before she signed his parchment. Malfoy grinned at her, patted her on the back, and then moved on.

Ginny noticed the bewildered smile on Matilda’s face as her Head of House left her, even if Malfoy didn’t.

o o o o

Typically the team captains conducted tryouts without Ginny’s supervision, but Ginny wanted to see how the Slytherin team shaped up, so she hid herself and observed from underneath the seats in the stands.

Malfoy, she saw, had chosen to attend; he, too, kept to the stands, though he didn’t bother to hide. An expectant smile graced his lips as students took turns playing different positions and flying various drills.

Matilda was slight and had a natural instinct for flying. Even though she’d never flown before she’d arrived at Hogwarts last year, she knew just how to push the ancient Nimbus 2000 she’d borrowed from the equipment closet to make it twist and soar effortlessly. She managed to catch a Snitch in tens of seconds, and she was so small and fast, she scored on the Keeper three times before he threw his hands in the air and flew back down to the ground in defeat. By the end of her tryout, the returning Slytherin team was clapping her on the back and whooping in delight. The other students awaiting their tryout looked less than pleased by the competition.

Matilda’s grin warmed Ginny, and she was so focused on watching the girl’s glee that she didn’t notice when someone sat down on the bleachers right above Ginny’s head.

“Enjoying the show?” Malfoy asked, startling Ginny into banging her head on the underside of the seats.

She glared up at him as she rubbed her scalp, but he merely smirked back. Now that she’d been caught, she crawled out from under the stands and joined Malfoy out in the open.

“Your hair caught the sun just right and blinded me,” he said after she sat down. “Do you normally hide under the bleachers?”

“I didn’t want my presence to influence the tryouts in any way,” she replied. “The captains should know they have full control of who they select for their teams.”

“Admirable of you.”

“No, it was admirable of you to convince Matilda to try out.”

“You said she was the best of any of the first years last year.”

“I also lied to you about Slytherin’s chances of winning the cup. You still believed me about her?”

Malfoy shrugged. “What would it hurt for her to try out?”

“If she really wasn’t as good as I’d said, just her reputation with her housemates.”

“How so?”

“Come on, Malfoy,” Ginny said, trying to capture his eyes so she could figure out what he was thinking. “You’re her Head of House. If I know that her classmates ostracize her, then you certainly know. If she tried out and was terrible, she’d be a laughingstock in Slytherin. Perhaps I’m naive, but I don’t think you would do that to one of your own students.”

“You’re not naive,” he said, his gaze intent on the team being forged in mid-air before them.

“Or maybe it was a win-win situation for you. If she tried out and she was as good as I said she was, you get an amazing player on your team. And if she was worse than I said, a Slytherin Muggleborn gets humiliated.”

Because she was still trying to meet his gaze, she saw exactly how stiffly he bristled, saw a nostril flare, his brow crease. Then he finally did look at her, though she recoiled at the anger she saw in his face.

“Is that what you think of me?”

She realized then that she’d misspoken and offended him somehow. When she went back over the words she’d uttered, she couldn’t figure out where she had tripped. Wasn’t it just like him to humiliate Muggleborns? He’d certainly done it often enough when they were children.

But they weren’t children anymore, were they? Malfoy was a teacher now, in charge of the Potions curriculum for hundreds of students each year. Everything she’d heard about his classes from their colleagues and from the students had been positive. Maybe he was a bit exacting about the standards set in his classroom, but he never belittled his students, was never cruel to them the way Snape had been.

“I didn’t—” she began, but Malfoy stood up, cutting her off.

He didn’t say a word before leaving her alone in the stands, and Ginny continued to sit there, ashamed of what she’d done.

o o o o

Matilda, of course, made the Slytherin Quidditch team. She led the Slytherins to their first victory of the season against Ravenclaw, catching the Snitch in a record-breaking two minutes and twenty-three seconds and ending the game with a score of 150 to zero.

Ginny might have been irritated by the win if she hadn’t caught sight of Matilda’s teammates parading her around the pitch on their shoulders while the girl beamed and laughed. Even her Hufflepuff friends, sporting homemade signs supporting Slytherin, had been included in the parade.

Of the things that had changed since the war, Ginny had to admit that Draco Malfoy was one of them. He was an obnoxious git, but he cared deeply about the students in his charge. She had never witnessed him singling students out, had never heard the students call him disparaging names.

Maybe Ginny was the one who hadn’t changed? Ten years since the end of the war—was she the one still holding grudges? 

She and Malfoy usually dissected Quidditch matches with the rest of the staff at dinner, but Ginny wasn’t in a celebratory mood. Instead, she quietly excused herself. No one would miss her. There had been too much excitement that morning for anyone to note her absence.

Compared to the Great Hall, the entrance hall was a tomb. Ginny paused at the bottom of the grand staircase, one foot on the first step, as she considered where she could go. It was a bit early for bed and maybe a bit late for flying.

“Leaving so soon?”

She turned and wasn’t surprised to see Malfoy slipping out of the Great Hall. At some point over the last five years, he had become her shadow, popping up to nettle her at the most inopportune moments.

“What?” he continued, a smirk hovering on his lips, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his robes. “Couldn’t bear to hear the discussion about Slytherin’s victory?”

“No, you deserved the win. I told you last year that Matilda was special.”

“Still surprised I listened?”

Ginny shrugged. Maybe she should have made some excuse to get away, but she had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Malfoy hadn’t crossed a line yet, even though she was sure he would soon. That was the thing with him. He always ended up saying something that made her regret talking to him.

“Come have a nightcap with me,” he said.

“Why?”

This time Malfoy shrugged, his hands never leaving his pockets. “Why not? I still haven’t heard your thoughts on the match.”

“What is there to talk about? It was over practically before it began.”

“Yes, but you have the best perspective from the middle of the pitch. I value your analysis.”

Her cheeks warmed and her eyes widened. Had Malfoy _actually_ said something nice?

“But I wouldn’t blame you if you lost your eye for the analytic aspects of the game after the untimely demise of your professional career.”

And there it was. “Sure, Malfoy,” Ginny growled, “I’ll have that drink with you.”

o o o o

Since Malfoy’s rooms were located in the dungeons, Ginny had expected them to look like an extension of the Potions classroom: dark, musty, obscured by steam emitted from an unknown source. But Malfoy’s sitting room lacked mysterious specimens floating in jars and the spicy scent of herbs. In fact, it was brightly lit and sparsely furnished.

So sparsely furnished, in fact, that she found herself sitting next to him on the single loveseat before the fire. While she sat stiffly, stuffed as close to the arm and as far away from him as she possibly could, he sat with his limbs spread and loose, drink dangling from his hand.

She sipped her firewhisky primly, arms tucked in tight to prevent accidental exposure to Malfoy.

They hadn’t said a word to each other since he had poured their drinks, and even though he looked relaxed and unwound, there was as much tension in his body as there was in Ginny’s.

Finally, he cleared his throat and straightened up a little. “Merlin, are you always the life of the party?”

Ginny swallowed the rest of her drink and got up to pour herself another.

“If you think I’m so boring, why did you invite me?”

“Why did you accept?”

She spun around before reaching the drink cart. “Maybe I need a drink just to deal with you, and maybe you have the most expensive taste in the castle.”

Malfoy’s lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile. “You’re using me then.”

He pulled himself up from the loveseat and joined her at the cart, holding out his glass so she could refill his, too. The crackling of the fire, the clear clinking of glass touching glass, the sound of liquid being poured—they filled the silence between them, and Ginny focused on those sounds to distract herself from the fact that Malfoy was staring at her. She could feel his eyes on her as if he were touching her.

Her body warmed, and she told herself the alcohol was the source of that heat, but she knew better.

The lid of the decanter clattered as she returned it to the cart, and then she made the mistake of looking up. Malfoy was closer than she’d realized, his eyes dilated and dark, his cheeks pink from the alcohol.

“Did you mean what you said at the tryouts?” he asked, solemn.

Ginny didn’t have to ask him to clarify. She knew exactly what he was referring to. She took two large gulps of her drink for courage before answering. The firewhisky burned through her esophagus, pooling like a lake of fire in her stomach.

“I thought I was joking, but I think part of me did mean it when I said it.” He was so close, she felt him stiffen. Of its own accord, her hand rose, hesitantly stroking his wrist, and her voice lowered. “I don’t mean it anymore. I’m sorry for ever saying it.”

He brought his glass to his lips and took a step back, and the air between them cooled, no longer fueled by their body heat. He went to the fireplace, one hand grasping the molding on the mantle as he stared into the flames and lifted his drink to his mouth again.

Ginny, unsure what was happening here, returned to the loveseat, perching on the edge as if ready to flee at any moment. Her drink comforted her, warmed her, erased her uncertainty and replaced it with boldness. Her heartbeat quickened, so she swallowed the rest of her drink to slow it.

She stood, smoothing out her robes to still her hands, stalling for time. It helped that her tongue felt heavy and thick, too cumbersome to speak, which meant she couldn’t open her mouth and insert her foot.

But she did open her mouth, just as Malfoy turned to look at her. Only, he didn’t let her speak at all. His eyes scanned her from head to toe as he finished his drink and deposited the glass on the mantle, and then he approached Ginny and claimed her empty glass and set it next to his.

“It’s not like I have any self respect anyway,” he said with a shrug, and then his lips were on hers.

Firewhisky, it turned out, tasted even better on someone else’s tongue. It even burned hotter. Or maybe the heat was strictly due to them, to their chemistry, to their tension. As teeth scraped against lips and tongues tried to soothe them, Ginny sensed that the last five years had been leading to this moment. The friction from all their arguments had suddenly collected enough energy to create a spark. The alcohol had fanned that spark into a flame.

Ginny found herself pressed against a wall, her hands fisted around the lapels of Malfoy’s robes, drawing him as close as possible, a paradox of Ginny’s earlier actions. Maybe she’d known even then that if she let Malfoy touch her, her body would take control and touch him back.

Malfoy hiked her leg up high on his hip, his erection nestled against her core. A moan escaped her throat even as an alarm sounded in her head in warning. This was moving so fast; she should probably stop it before they did something they regretted. Something _she_ regretted. Instead of pushing him away, instead of letting him go, she held on tighter. If the last five years had been leading to this moment, maybe she needed to let it happen. No, as remarkable as it seemed, she did in fact want it to happen—with Malfoy of all people—and so badly she began to tremble in anticipation of more.

Malfoy must have felt her urgency, because, suddenly, he hoisted her up and she locked her ankles together behind his back as he carried her through a door on the other side of the sitting room, presumably—hopefully—to a bedroom.

A startled laugh fell out of her mouth as he tossed her on the bed, making her bounce about, but the humor immediately drained from the room as Malfoy drew his robes over his head, revealing a pale, scarred chest—and his Dark Mark. She didn’t mean for her gaze to linger, but she couldn’t help it. It had been over ten years since she’d seen a Mark, and here it was in front of her, attached to a delicious body that she was looking forward to fucking. Kind of killed the mood.

Malfoy tensed when he noticed her distraction, and without looking at the thing, without drawing more attention to it by exposing it, he asked, “Is this going to be a problem?”

His hands were at the waistband of his underwear, fingers stalling just underneath the elastic as an eyebrow raised in question. 

A swell of heat radiated from her core outward, warming each extremity. Ginny’s sex throbbed. She hadn’t gotten laid since she’d begun teaching at Hogwarts. More than _five_ years without sex.

This was not going to be a problem, because this didn’t mean anything. It was one body pounding into another for pleasure, for stress relief, for fun. She and Malfoy were not about to embark on a meaningful relationship. This was simply a fuck. Just one.

“Not at all,” she said, sitting up and reaching for him, tugging him closer until his knees touched the mattress. Though he moved to join her on the bed, she stopped him, forcing him to stand before her, fully open to her scrutiny and admiration.

She pushed his hands away and lowered his underwear herself, watching in fascination as his cock sprang free and bobbed. It twitched in the cool air, and then Malfoy sucked in his breath through his teeth, making a hissing sound.

The sight of his dark eyes, his disheveled hair, his flushed cheeks spurred her to nuzzle his chest, placing light kisses on his nipples and forging a trail downwards… downwards… downwards….

When her lips closed over the tip of his cock, he groaned as if in pain, the sound so unexpectedly delicious, a tingle raced through Ginny’s body, and the juncture between her thighs flooded with wetness.

She slid her mouth down his cock, but she couldn’t take all of him, so she placed a hand at the base of him and stroked in time with each lick and suck and pull. His hands came up to her head, fingers digging into her hair, and though his grip tightened every once in awhile—punctuated with an _oh fuck_ that made Ginny tremble each time he uttered it—he did not force her head down or change her speed.

She knew he was close when he began thrusting slightly into her mouth, and Ginny took that as her cue to back off, releasing him with a wet _pop_ and his groaned objection. Laying back on the bed, she withdrew her wand to Vanish every stitch of clothing she wore, and then she propped herself up on her forearms and spread her legs so he could see the way her body reacted to him. His groan of objection turned into a growl of delight.

In no time at all, he was on top of her, mouth devouring every inch of skin, hands spanning every expanse until he came to her wet, hot center. Ginny released her own growl as his fingers gentled. She wanted him to be rough with her, to plow into her, to claim her, mark her, make her forget the entirety of her own existence as she came in powerful waves. But he was gentle, teasing, his thumb circling her clit but never touching it directly before stroking between her folds and back up. Circling again. Stroking again.

Ginny arched her hips. “Come on, Malfoy!”

He retreated from the bed—the exact opposite of what Ginny had wanted—and lowered himself to his knees, and now he was dragging her body to the edge of the mattress, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Before Ginny could fully appreciate what was about to happen, Malfoy placed his mouth over her clit and he was sucking her dry.

She didn’t censor herself when it came to her moans; she couldn’t even if she wanted to. With each hard suck and soothing lick, he drew sound out of her, as if she were an instrument only he knew how to play. Every pluck of his fingers, every graze of his nose or his chin, every sweep of lips kissing her, closing around her clit, coaxed a different note out of her throat, producing a song of long-denied desire and reluctant satisfaction.

She hoped the room was soundproof. Since they were in the dungeons, it probably was.

A crescendo of pleasure began to build, and Ginny, recognizing the signs of her impending orgasm, laughed. Down the length of her bare body, buried between her thighs, Malfoy’s platinum-blond head bobbed, and instead of horror piercing her heart (because _Draco Malfoy_ was going down on her and doing a bloody good job of it), Ginny only felt relief that this was happening. Her body sang with awareness of every touch— _Malfoy’s fingers digging into her thighs, holding her in place, his nose brushing her folds with each wet sweep of his tongue_ —every breath— _Ginny’s breath sawing out of her, labored and gasping but also_ vigorous _and full of life; Malfoy’s contained until he came up for air and then hot and moist against the sensitive flesh between her legs_ —every pull and suck and kiss—

Before she could make sense of the sensations rolling through her, she crested the wave of her pleasure and remained suspended in midair, her body arched but Malfoy there to anchor her, until she sailed down the other side, her breath jagged, her chest heaving.

Malfoy climbed onto the bed, then, and while her sex was still pulsing, he came over her and slid in. Blissed out as she was, weak as she felt from the intensity of her first orgasm, as soon as the tip of his cock entered her, she came alive again, brought back to the moment, to _him_ , as she noticed how he stretched her, how deeply he filled her. He closed his eyes, his own breath harsh as he inched in and got used to the feel of her. 

Ginny pulled him down for a kiss, and he slid the rest of the way in. As his hips contracted and plunged back in, over and over again, Ginny became overwhelmed by sensation and longing once more. Desperate for the feel of his skin flush against hers, she clutched him to her, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on his back and undoubtedly leaving scratches behind, her legs wrapped around his waist, encouraging him with a squeeze of her thighs or her heels digging into his lower spine. Their bodies were slippery, hot and slick with sweat from exertion, but Ginny couldn’t get enough and needed more.

Malfoy grunted in her ear, punctuating every other thrust of his hips with a drawn out _fuuuck_ or a sibilant _yesss_ that made Ginny’s already heated body flush further—which had to be impossible, as hot as she was burning. She hardly noticed she was nodding in agreement. She hummed and kissed a trail along his jaw to his ear and back down to his lips, her breath hitching as the rhythm of his hips grew more erratic, his utterances a little louder.

 _“Yes, yes yes,”_ she said against his jaw, spurring him onward. Her hands moved from his back to his head, her fingers gripping his hair and tugging on it of their own volition, but if Malfoy felt any pain, it only excited him further, the pounding between her legs frenzied now as he neared completion.

This time her ecstasy crept up on her, a wail of surprise forced out of her as she rocked in time with Malfoy’s jagged momentum and the swells of desire that stripped her of thought. Her whole body was one bundle of nerves, sensitive to every touch and exploding with sensation. Her mind emptied, replaced with a white expanse, and when she closed her eyes to contain this feeling, stars, brighter even than the blank whiteness, twinkled behind her eyelids.

She only came back to herself when Malfoy collapsed on top of her. Both of their bodies trembled with aftershocks, and Ginny mindlessly ran her hand down his arm as if to soothe his twitchy muscles with her twitchy fingers.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, he rolled off her so they were laying side by side.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he said while sporting the cheesiest grin Ginny had ever seen him wear.

She propped herself up to stare at him in outrage, suddenly regretting what they’d just done, never mind that he was the best shag of her life! Wait—was Malfoy really the best shag of her life? Surely she could think of a better one….

“Really?” she said, gritting her teeth. “Are you making a Quidditch joke right now?”

His smile only widened.

Ginny labored to climb out of the bed, still recovering her strength. She searched the floor for her discarded clothes until she remembered she’d Vanished them all, and then, grumbling to herself about immature Malfoys and her own poor planning, she snatched his robe from the floor and threw it over herself.

Malfoy always found a way to ruin every situation, either with a bad insult or a bad joke, and this time it was both.

He hadn’t moved an inch since she’d got up, but he watched her with that idiotic smile plastered to his face. Just before departing the bedroom, Ginny stopped in the doorway and said, “That shag was worth way more than ten points, thank you very much! It was 150 points at the very least!”

His laughter followed her through his sitting room and echoed in her ears all the way to her rooms.

o o o o

Ginny had skipped breakfast Monday morning, but Dobby had sent a tray of food to her room as if anticipating her absence from the Great Hall. As she ate alone, she hoped the house-elf was getting paid what he deserved, because he was certainly more observant and efficient than the others.

Descending to the Quidditch pitch for her first lesson of the day, she jumped at every noise, her eyes scanning the students crowding the corridors for a familiar head of platinum blond hair. Ginny couldn’t face the idea of seeing Malfoy again. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined herself moaning while he fucked her with his tongue; she heard every grunt he uttered in her ear. It didn’t help that her whole body ached as if she’d participated in an intense workout. The area between her legs was especially tender, serving as an erotic, secret reminder of the forbidden turn Ginny’s previously non-existent relationship with Malfoy had taken.

She made it all the way to the Quidditch pitch without bumping into Malfoy—or so she thought. The git just so happened to be leaning against the equipment closet door, looking pleased as punch.

Ginny scowled. And then she scowled further as she caught herself staring at his pointed nose, remembering how it had felt brushing against her sensitive skin when he was going down on her. She changed focus to his hair, trying to avoid those smug, all-seeing eyes, but the memory of its dishevelment thanks to her frenzied fingers was all she could see.

“You’re in the way,” she greeted him.

“You weren’t saying that Saturday night.”

Her lips drew together in a severe line, and Malfoy, hands raised defensively, took two steps to the side to allow Ginny through the door. She levitated brooms and the ball crate out of the closet and locked the door behind her, and she’d hoped by the time she came out that Malfoy would have disappeared. She was disappointed, but not surprised, to find he had not.

“Is there something you want?”

He eyed her up and down, his gaze slow and lingering, leaving no doubt what he wanted.

Ginny would have snorted fire if she could have. She stepped up to him, nose to nose, and said in a low, menacing voice, “What happened on Saturday will not be repeated. Not ever. So don’t get your hopes up, don’t proposition me, don’t even look at me that way again. Are we clear?”

The bastard was still smiling when she was done. “We’re clear.”

“Good.” The brooms and crate floated before her as she retreated to the pitch to set up obstacles for her lesson. Before she’d cleared the portal, Malfoy called her name.

With great reluctance, she turned, her whole body stiff with tension. He, on the other hand, stood relaxed, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, his grin once again tamed into a smirk.

“I think you’re wrong, you know. I think we will shag again. I’d even bet on it.”

Ginny, remembering what it had felt like to sabotage Malfoy’s gamble on the Quidditch Cup the previous school year, remembering how elated she had felt in her certainty he would lose, replaced her enraged scowl with a smile.

“That’s one wager I’ll gladly take you up on.”

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> If Septima Vector's appearance was ever described in canon, I've opted to ignore that description. Not sure if we know what House she's from, either, but she's Gryffindor's Head of House in this fic. That's the beauty of fan fic; I can do what I want. u_u
> 
> Special thanks to R3.0 for inspiring me to write this one! SUPER SPECIAL THANKS to Ha'niqua for beta-ing!! Her help was invaluable, as always!
> 
> Reviews appreciated!


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